Roses
by empurple
Summary: Nobody can control who they fall in love with. Francis knows that all too well. Unrequited love, BTT, mixed in with loneliness and a sprinkle of love. More warnings inside.


Warnings: Angst, possible cursing, and sad, sappy, unrequited love. Human names used. If you are a Frali fan, you could read this and break your heart. Based on role-plays which you can PM me about, if you wish to acquire links. The song in italics is 'All too well' by Taylor Swift.

General knowledge (especially for those who haven't read Ocean Blue): Alicia Aragon is the representation of the Crown of Aragon, Spain; now known as the region, Aragon. She and Francis were together in early 1500-1600s. They've been together for the longest time, and Antonio had only recently approved of their relationship. And sadly, that relationship isn't sailing as smoothly as either of them had hoped. Alicia fell in love with Gilbert, and her relationship with Francis changed.

* * *

_Maybe we got lost in translation,_

_Maybe I asked for too much_

_And maybe this thing was a __**masterpiece**_

'_Til you tore it all up._

* * *

In all honesty, all she ever wanted was for him to fight for her. Once. Just once in his cowardly, miserable existence, she wanted him to fight for him. But then again, that was what she got for hoping too much from the Frenchman. She had fought with her brothers to be able to be with him, fought the very nation she came from to be able to stay by his side, and even fought the odds of death just to be able to return to him. However, the moment her heart slips and she starts to fall for someone else, he completely threw his arms up in defeat and handed her out.

Alicia sighed into the autumn air. She would have had more of a choice, had he fought for her. But the moment he let her go was the moment she knew she wouldn't regret her decision – even if it was, quite indeed, a painful one.

So, just as Francis said when their last conversation ended terribly, she approached the famous tower in the heart of Paris, France.

Autumn was always so beautiful in France, and she had almost forgotten the things she loved the most about it. The scent of freshly brewed coffee as she walked down streets, the smiles of children as they walked down the street, and the happy couples walking up and down the pavement. As she went through the park to get to the tower, she could see him from afar. There was a group of children surrounding him, and he was talking and pointing at the tower. She waited patiently until they were towed away by what seemed like their teacher, and the Frenchman headed towards a café under the tower.

"One French press, please. To-go," he said, his suave, cool voice hinted with just a sliver of disappointment. She knew just where it came from. So she drew up the courage to walk right up behind him.

"I'll take whatever he's having, so make it two."

With that, the blond spun around, and his ocean-blue eyes widening. The Aragonese woman only smiled until Francis eventually stretched out a hand to brush bristles of her black hair away from her face and tuck them behind her ears, "Ah, _mon cher_, it is you." And he pulled her into an embrace, "You finally came."

Once he pulled away, he took their caffeinated drinks. She was handed one of the two cups of coffee, and she laughed a little as she took the coffee in both hands, "W-Well you told me you'd be waiting, and well," she drew a deep breath, "You wouldn't talk to me any other way so... Yes. I'm here."

"Nonsense!" He said, attempting to wave a dismissive hand as they found a park bench that fit them perfectly, "You could have called my cell-phone," He sipped his coffee, "Do you have any of my new contact information? I changed almost everything. My house, phone number, email – although that's a problem for another time. How have you been?" The blond sped through the conversation like it was his first time talking to a living, breathing human being. Or, personification. But either way, it was evident to Alicia that he was nervous.

She rolled her eyes and muttered against the rim of her coffee cup, "That explains a lot." But after a sip, she smiled a little at the Frenchman, "Never better, actually. But I've been worried," she side-glanced at the Frenchman, making his heart skip a beat, "I didn't think you'd still be here."

"Well, I've been coming here so often people have started to rely on me. The teacher beings her class twice a year and I talk to them, as well as several men and women who have trouble with love come to nobody else but me." He sipped his coffee a bit more, "When you live for thousands of years you learn that sometimes it's better to let go to the ones who are gone and all of us have faced a certain loss before…"

"But it's never always that easy to let go of the ones we love, now, is it?" Her question was simply stated, but the frustrations between the two of them had been summed up within it. She didn't know it now was the right time to be honest with him. All of a sudden, he had seemed so far away from her once more. And, of all things, she never liked the distance.

"Why do I feel like we're not on the same page, _mon cher?_" He raised an eyebrow at woman beside him, "And if you are referring to our now quite complicated relationship I need to ask you a question: why did you really come here today? Because I know it was not to talk about something we both already know, and not because you couldn't contact me."

"Let me ask you back," she was never really the one to give up without a fight, not even when they were together, "Why did you wait for me? Why did you _want_ me to come here?" her amber eyes were pained and tired. Bags under her eyes would have told him she hadn't slept for days. And her thin, trembling fingers upon the cup in her hands signified that she had gotten thin. She sighed, took a sip of coffee and avoided his gaze, "I came because there was something here I had to come back to. We both needed it."

"I love the Eiffel tower, there is nothing else to visit." But he laughed a little at the scowl she had on her face, "I tease~" he smiled at her, making her recall those moments where she was completely and utterly in love with him, "I wait here because I promised you I would, and I needed to start building your trust of me back up. I thought this was the best way to start: by keeping my promise."

She smiled at the Frenchman, setting her cup down beside her before reaching into her pocket, and bringing out a small envelope, "This is for you."

His name was written at the front of the envelope in her distinct, cursive penmanship. However, he'd seen envelopes such as this. It was an invitation. His brows furrowed and he looked at her, "What is this?"

"Gil and I want to see you," she looked at him seriously, "I may not love you the same way I used to, but I do still love you, because for most of my life, you were the only truth I knew. You were my confidante, my back-up, my warmth and my love. But you already know that things have changed."

Francis was afraid of what was about to come next. But she said it anyway.

"I'm getting married."

* * *

Something heavy fell into the pit of his stomach: he had never thought of it that way. Then again, the reason why he never thought it would end up that way was because he patterned the Prussian's footsteps into what he, as a Frenchman, would do. It seemed to have slipped his mind that – although he, Gilbert and Antonio were exceedingly close – none of them have the same personality. He didn't think that just because he spent thousands of years trying to decide whether it would be worth it if he should marry Alicia or not, doesn't mean that Gilbert didn't already know the worth. Alicia's worth. And he knew that nothing would make the Aragonese woman happier.

He never knew how he was to approach the act of visiting a former lover, especially when her current flame was his best friend who had all the right to beat him into oblivion – of course, he had signed the Prussian off to Russia (something he fought his boss for) and he had been far too guilty to visit him or even talk to him for decades. But he would do anything for Alicia, even if it included actually getting beaten into a pulp. So holding a bouquet of red roses, he walked back up into her house in Zaragoza and rang the doorbell.

Francis wasn't surprised to find that Antonio opened the door, "Ah, amigo," he grinned, "We've been expecting you."

The moment he entered, he was led to where Alicia, Gilbert and Lovino were eating. The Aragonese woman smiled at him, and hearing her voice made his heart melt, "Good morning, Francis~"

However, his eyes found his other best friend, and the expression on the albino's face was unreadable. He stood up and walked up to the Frenchman, a sour look on his face before he wrapped his arms around Francis' shoulders, "Come here you big, stupid, idiot. I've missed you."

The Frenchman felt tears sting in his eyes, "Ah, _mon ami._" And he wrapped an arm weakly around the albino, "I'm sorry for not coming to see you sooner."

"It's nothing. I'm just glad you're finally here," Gilbert pulled away, then noticed what was in his other hand and chuckled, "Although, I have to sincerely decline because these roses are too much."

With that, Francis rolled his eyes, "I think you already know that they're not for you."

Gilbert nodded, and with a warm smile, he looked at his soon-to-be wife and motioned for her to come, "Of course."

She walked up to Francis, and his ocean-blue eyes still shimmered with love. She knew it – because she spent nearly a thousand years looking into those eyes. But hers showed a love that transformed – stretched, like a trampoline. She had a love that wasn't as infinite as it used to be.

However, Alicia still smiled warmly as the Frenchman offered her the bouquet, "Red roses. You never changed."

"That's what I promised, remember?" he asked her playfully. Then, forgetting everything that had occurred within the past months and acting completely upon impulse, he bent down to place a gentle kiss upon her cheek.

He didn't expect tears to form in her eyes and make Gilbert wear an expression he'd never seen before.

* * *

If Antonio's death glares weren't enough to tell him that what he had done was highly uncalled for and a bit over the line, his newly bruised cheek (courtesy of Gilbert) certainly was.

"I'm sorry." He apologized again as he sat at the dining room table.

"We know you are." The Prussian said seriously, "And I doubt that you want another punch to the face."

Francis chuckled, "You really didn't hold back on that one."

"You kissed my fiancée," Gilbert said, unamused.

"On the cheek," Francis tried to argue.

"You made her cry." Antonio pointed out. Francis glared at him – he wasn't helping at all.

"I never really mean to do it whenever I make her cry," the Frenchman now looked terribly guilty.

Gilbert and Antonio exchanged glances – well, of course, _that_ they also know.

"It doesn't matter," Alicia entered the room with an ice-pack, sat beside the Frenchman and held it gently against the Frenchman's cheek, "It's fine."

"You've always said that," Francis said, chuckling lightly, "They never always true."

Alicia raised an eyebrow at him, "Don't push it, Francis. I'm in a much better position to threaten and castrate you now."

"Now, now, love," Gilbert and Antonio were both stifling their chuckles, but the former approached them, making hope sink into the bottom of his stomach, "I don't want one of my best men missing."

To that, Francis looked up, "… You want me to be one of your best men?" He asked in a soft, hoarse whisper.

"You are my friend, you know." Gilbert grinned.

"And always mine." Alicia added.

Francis honestly didn't know what to feel.

* * *

_Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it_

_I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it._

* * *

Francis found himself unable to sleep the next few days. He felt the recurring need to run away from the situation, but then again, that sort of action had gotten him into where he was in the first place. So he blew smoke from his cigarette into the cool air, the winter leaving for the arrival of spring. He was overlooking the gardens, recalling how he had often seen Alicia tending to them with all her heart, and remembering the beautiful sight it was to have her in his arms after she was ready to come inside when he realized someone had followed him.

"I never asked you if you were angry… You have all the right to be."

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, "And what would that do, exactly?" he asked his companion, "It certainly would not have made her choose me over you."

Gilbert sighed and leaned against a post. The gazebo they were in held so many memories for the Frenchman, and possibly, for Alicia, they were now getting replaced with memories of the Prussian, "I'm sorry." Gilbert said. After all, he still considered Francis close to being a brother.

With a heavy sigh, Francis turned to him, "I should be saying that still, you know?" he smiled weakly, "I should never have left her. I'm sure that she told you the circumstances of which I left-" the albino nodded here, "-the dream in which I saw Jeanne. I should never have let that sway my heart."

"Everyone had humans who were important to them die, Francis." The Prussian tried to say, but the Frenchman shook his head.

"That's the thing, isn't it?" He asked as he put out his cigarette and looked back out into the garden, "I should have valued her more than the one who was dead. She is still alive. She used to love me."

"She still does." His statement made the Frenchman turn to him incredulously, "Y-You… You should have heard her. Even when she was hurt and upset, and breaking down – not once did she ever speak an ill word against you."

"You're too kind, saying that," Francis didn't want to believe it.

"No, I mean it," Gilbert insisted, "I was telling her how I thought you were a bad friend because of what had happened the past decades, and she was defending you." He sighed and turned away, "I… I'm actually scared. You had a thousand years with her. I don't know if I can live up to what she would want and need."

Francis was silent for a while. Then, he smiled sadly and spoke, "You asked her to marry you."

This time, Gilbert looked at him, "I wanted to… I love her."

"I know," the blond said, "And she loves you. I know-" he added as the Prussian's mouth opened to ask, "I've seen that look on her face before. She used to look at me like that. I was always waiting for the right time, that I would find the right time to ask her."

"I made the time right," Gilbert said, looking helplessly in love, "Because I know that she'd be worth it."

"I know that now."

There was no healing his heart. There was a certain pain to watching what you want to do for your beloved done by someone else. However, at that moment, when Alicia stepped into the gazebo looking at him like she had just been stabbed by his words, he felt a sharper pang of guilt. He thought the Prussian had come alone. The albino sighed and jerked his head towards Francis' direction, and Alicia threw her arms around him. The feeling left the Frenchman in tears as he embraced her and held her close to him.

"Alicia…" he whispered weakly, trying to get a hold of his thoughts, his feelings, and everything else that had gone loose.

She was warm, and her voice was gentle, "... Yeah?"

"I…" He gulped, then buried his head in her shoulders, "… I love you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." She said softly.

He said those words again and again, as though there was some part of him that hoped they were enough to claim her back, or bring her back to her senses. But her reply never changed, never different. She had definitely made her choice clear. It was enough words to cause him to sob. He cried there in the warmth of her arms, but finding no comfort in the fact that she would never say the same words back to him again.

* * *

The day of their wedding arrived faster than Francis thought. As he stood beside the three other men that Gilbert chose, he took out an envelope from his coat's inner pocket. It was the last thing he wanted to give to Alicia, but he wanted to envelope and giving her a concrete visual of his love – just one last time. He had spoiled the couple with their honeymoon, giving them only the best, but he wanted there to be more of him in what he wanted to give her.

It was Feliciano who managed to take it. In the photograph, they had shared a kiss. Completely spontaneous, and he didn't even think about it. He just felt it in his heart. It was the height of his love. This time, he just wanted her to know.

However, the moment she came through the doors, he was stunned by her. A white, laced dress, a short veil, and Arthur bringing her down the aisle – he had often thought of the sight, but never expected to witness it. But she looked happier than he had ever seen her. And when he looked at Gilbert, he had never seen him look at someone with as much love as he did while he watched her come down the aisle to him. Just then, his decision became clear. He kept back the old photograph and stowed it in his pocket. He couldn't bear to see Alicia's smile wiped off her face. Even if it wasn't him keeping her happy.

There was one thing he noticed more than her dress, and it was the flowers that she had in her hands: they were **white **roses.

He knew just what they meant. It reminded him of innocence. _Its scent smelled just like her._ He couldn't get rid of the thought and the feeling, and he knew it all too well. But he loved her. And he wanted to love her, the way he always knew how. It didn't matter to him if she returned his feelings, but he wanted her present in her life, so he endured. Gilbert couldn't have said it any better. White roses meant: secrecy, humility, heavenliness; saying "I am worthy of you." And the Prussian obviously was, for he loved Alicia with every ounce of being, regardless of the time they spent. But Francis stayed, even if Alicia loved Gilbert. Because at the end, he could congratulate her, embrace her, and get to see her smile.

And nobody else gets hurt – except, maybe, him.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I have to admit, I couldn't put this story down. Gosh, I just can't stop crying. Some of the ones who know me might understand that I know just how it feels and, well... Maybe this is one way of me to put my feelings into coherent sentences.

Oh Jesus... I swear. It isn't the best feeling to love someone who doesn't love you back. But if they're happy, hey - why shouldn't you be happy for them, right? I have no words enough right now to express that sort of love. I just... Gosh. Don't try it. It feels like dying a little every day.


End file.
